Paint it, all the colors of the wind!
by takitaka
Summary: A lot of drabble stories not connected to one another, majority written for requests, no beta, many different characters. #19: Feliks is way too serious about it, and it gives Toris doubts.
1. Lithuania and Hungary

Rating for this story: T

* * *

><p>Hungary's lips were warm and a little damp against his and her hand was holding the back of his head and she was… really all soft and nice, smelled like powder— it was probably the make-up, he decided, moving his hand around her shoulders and letting her tilt his head however she wanted.<p>

After a moment it got from sweet to even sweeter and wet and Lithuania groaned, but still, but still—

"What is it? My, Lithuania, I can almost hear you thinking."

She was smiling, not giggling, thank god, her cheeks pleasantly pink and it'd be easy to just lean down again…

But since when Lithuania did things the easy way?

"Don't you think it's a little strange?" he blurted out and in the moment she raised her eyebrow he wished for the couch to completely swallow him.

"I mean— I'm Poland's friend, and you are too and that makes us…" he let his voice drop, hoping she'll understand what he means, but she only looked at him with polite interest.

"That makes us Poland's friends, yes. If you wanted him to join you could have said it before we agreed to go out—"

"No, no, that's not it!" God knew he had enough of Poland as it was, he didn't have to take him on his dates as well. Or make out sessions. Or… erm, anything like that.

"It's just—"

Hungary was clearly impatient now and she gathered her hair to throw it over her shoulder, exposing the other one along with the long column of her neck and Lithuania's mind went pleasantly blank for a second, what probably explained what he said next:

"It's just like I was kissing Poland's sister or something!"

Oh. Oh god, could he be any more of an idiot?

He moved away from Hungary, letting her bend down to hold her stomach while she laughed and laughed and laughed—

"Okay, I get it," he murmured, unhappy, wondering if he screwed everything up for today or what—

But then he felt Hungary grip his elbow and push him against the couch, while she held her skirt up to be able to straddle his legs and he swallowed, looking at her bright face just above his own.

"I hope you realize," she breathed out right into his mouth, "that it makes it all the more interesting to me."


	2. Thailand and Belgium

Rating for this story: K

* * *

><p>Thailand only wanted some fries - some <em>Belgian original <em>because while it definitely wasn't like he couldn't get fries pretty much anywhere, he figured that improving his relations with who seemed like pretty nice lady from crazy filled Europe wasn't such a bad idea.

He wasn't expecting to have a plate thrown at his head as soon as he stepped into Belgium's territory.

It certainly made him think it over – or it would have if he had a little bit more time than that because as soon as he stopped in his tracks Belgium's disheveled head popped out from the door and he felt pinned to the spot by her glare. But then he heard a gasp and she was by his side within seconds with 'sorry sorry sorry' and saying something about Netherlands (what would explain why the plate was thrown so high and he wasn't hit, that guy was _huge_), and he was politely asking if it was her way of saying hello because he couldn't get anything else out through his initial state of shock, and Belgium apologized some more and then they were suddenly both laughing.

In the end he got as much crazy as the fries he finally got to ask for, but he couldn't bring himself to complain.


	3. Canada and Austria

Rating for this story: T

* * *

><p>After some time Canada desperately searches for something, anything that they have in common. The first obvious thing was glasses, but when he shares his brilliant observation he gets one of <em>those<em> looks and he doesn't feel like going into this again. But Austria can be pretty persistent in that very subtle, a little passive-aggressive way that is both a little similar (ha!) and more infuriating than Canada's own.

The next day he comes to meet Canada wearing a T-shirt with a crossed out kangaroo, looking both hilarious and completely inadequate. It actually takes Canada a little while, but when he realizes what that _means_ he's touched enough to offer a blowjob, and Austria doesn't call him America when he comes.


	4. Poland and Czech

Rating for this story: K

* * *

><p>One beautiful day Poland decided to troll the world. Some day Polish would be learned all throughout the world, he was sure of it – so why shouldn't he make it a little harder than absolutely necessary? After all he wouldn't want lazy people to learn his language. Only the best of the best should be able to success!<p>

Thinking of the word _szczaw_ was pretty fabulous. _Krzew_ was really cool too, sounding so different than it looked like and whatnot. And while he was at it – _grzmieć_. Ah, _grzmieć_ was his absolute favourite for a while!

What Poland didn't know was that somewhere near his border someone collected all the vowels he was throwing out. Not only did they have all in doubles soon - hey, you have _a_, _o_, _u_ and the rest? _They_ had _á_, _ó_, _ú and ů_, too - they still decided to keep them out of some of their words completely.

_Prst_ didn't even make sense to look at. _Vlk_, _krk_, _krb_ - no, they really _are_ all regular words. And they don't even look complicated!

Because when Poland was busy trolling the world, Czech was better.

Czech decided to troll Poland.

* * *

><p>(PL) <em>szczaw<em> – sorrel; _krzew_ – shrub; _grzmieć_ – to thunder;

(CZ) _prst_ – finger; _vlk_ – wolf; _krk_ – nape of the neck; _krb_ – fire;


	5. Liet, Popo and Russia

Rating for this story: T

Prompt: something with Poland, Russia and Lithuania with short hair

* * *

><p>Lithuania felt like crying.<p>

It was one thing to wake up with a hangover, squished between Russia and Poland, with no pants on and a pink bow tied around his penis—

_oh holy everything that could__ ever be_

—and another to discover that by some miracle Poland's gum got stuck in his hair and he wouldn't be able to wash it off in _any way_.

It was quick for both Poland and Russia to wake up and decide to help and that's how he found himself being firmly held in place by the bigger one, while his-supposed-to-be-best-friend hovered over his head with big scissors.

"Liet, seriously, if you don't want me to stuck those into your _eye_—"

"I don't want you to have those anywhere near my head in the first place!"

"Ah, Lithuania, we only try to help, da?"

Help. Okay, he knew he was being irrational, but— but it was _his hair_, and he never had it short and that gum was everywhere and his head still hurt _so much_—

How were they even not as hangovered as him?

Also, they could've at least let him put some damn _pants_ on—

It took some time for both of them to get him to stop squirming enough for Poland to work around his hair. He was terrified to check the results, but—

But.

Poland's hands felt different when he run them through his _short_ hair…

And, he also discovered, the back of his neck seemed definitely more sensitive for some reason when Russia placed on it what felt like apologetic kiss.


	6. Prussia and Estonia

Rating for this story: T

I also decided to put here all my stories with less than 1000 words, so there really can be pretty big difference in length between them.

* * *

><p>"You're completely boring, man."<p>

Estonia frowns and pushes his glasses up. His eyes are still glued to the monitor, though, and Prussia feels absolutely – frustratingly – ignored.

So, he tries different approach.

"Actually, all you Baltics are. Lithuania – come on, he wouldn't even be visible without Poland hanging on him and yapping his stupid face off all the time, and that little shaking something? What the hell is it, some sort of squirrel?"

Now Estonia is looking at him, but he doesn't look angry in the slightest. Actually, he looks rather bewildered, with his eyebrows raised so high that it's almost ridiculous.

"Have you ever seen a squirrel?"

"What kind of a stupid ass question is that," Prussia snaps and leans over the table to where Estonia is sitting. "Have you seen one? Besides that internet shit, I mean. Do you even look at the real world anymore? You're like an internet junkie or something."

Estonia smiles at him and leans back – not because he is intimidated by Prussia's closeness. It's more like he needs the space to look all flashy or something. There is one word running through Prussia's mind now. It starts with 'b' and ends with 'astard'.

Meanwhile, Estonia flashes him another smile and Prussia finds it frustrating that he can look so confident and so polite at the same time.

"It's not very nice to try to start a fight just because you're bored."

"I'm much too awesome to be bored!" Honestly, why do those eastern nations have to be so fucking lame. "It's not possible for anyone to be bored in my presence and I'm fucking lucky that I can bless myself with me all the time! See? No 'bored' here!"

"Ah."

Prussia blinks when Estonia goes back to doing – whatever the hell it is that he's doing on his laptop. Long fingers are dancing on the keyboard and Prussia cringes when he remembers Austria and his stupid piano. Yet another reason to hate West and his 'just talk with him until I come back' shit.

Why does he have to entertain West's guests anyway? It isn't his fault that his meeting at America's got so drawn out. He has a life on his own! He was busy doing… something when Estonia came here! He could do much more interesting stuff right now, like…

"Why?"

Estonia isn't looking at him – still – but Prussia is fairly sure that he heard something.

"What?"

"Why am I boring?"

The question startles him more than he wants to admit, so he answers with the first thing that he can think of.

"You're completely predictable."

Estonia moves his gaze to him then, eyes clear and expression amused. Prussia feels his cheeks grow hot and he's so surprised at this that he only becomes more angry.

"What's with that stupid face?"

Then they both hear the front door open and Prussia turns around to see West glaring at him and saying apologies to Estonia. He doesn't get the angry gaze until he realizes that he's leaning over their guest again. He quickly straightens up and narrows his eyes. Before he can throw a tantrum, though, Estonia closes his laptop and moves to the door.

Prussia quickly storms off before him, somehow feeling that it's the right thing to do. He shoots Estonia a victorious gaze and freezes when he finds himself facing a playful smirk.

"You know, maybe you're the predictable one here. Seriously, Old Fritz 1740?"

Prussia can only stare numbly while Estonia brushes past him and heads to Germany's cabinet.

"You– YOU FUCKING BASTARD! IT'S A PRIVATE ACCOUNT!"

"Don't worry, I only checked it while we were waiting," Estonia cut in. "And you don't have anything really interesting there. Nothing impressive anyway."

Prussia suddenly remembers what _exactly _he has there and he can't help but feel his entire face flame again. His face grows even hotter when he realizes that Estonia must have watched all this stuff while talking with him. He recalls some of the looks he has been given which seemed slightly out of the blue then but now–

"What the hell," he says incredulously and almost misses the smirk Estonia sends him before he closes the door to West's office, leaving him alone and confused as hell in the corridor.


	7. France and Poland

Rating for this story: K+

Prompt: France/Poland, yes

* * *

><p>And suddenly Poland decided that France was only allowed to touch him when he clearly said "yes".<p>

That was problematic for at least one hundred and twenty eight reasons, the fact that France simply couldn't bother with such mundane things being somewhere in first ten. He was bound to appreciate the world's beauty! Did anyone ask the mountains or the sea whether they were allowed to look? And touch was, well, right by the looking as far as France was concerned.

(Besides he was just too used to Spain and his blatant not caring of France's appreciative touches every now and then.)

And okay, maybe it wasn't the best idea to happily brush Poland's cheek and sneak an arm around his waist before making his presence known to the smaller nation first, but really, was it enough of a reason to punch? And scream and call for Lithuania and run face first into a door while trying to get away? If Poland only _let_ him he'd happily help him deal with that ridiculous shyness.

Instead he just got a blow right into his stomach and a silent treatment. Which, interestingly enough, was ridiculously hard to ignore. It seemed as if Poland knew exactly where France was about to look and was purposely standing in the right place to look sulky and kind of pathetic, really, with that bruise on the cheek from the unexpected contact with the door.

It wasn't France's _fault_!

But, maybe in the name of long and beautiful friendship, he decided to humour Poland at last and make him lose that ridiculous expression.

It was harder than expected to approach Poland without reaching to touch the fine hair or put a big-brotherly hand on his shoulder, but France won that battle with a grace that he could only expect from a man such as himself.

Poland stiffened because he was hurtful little bastard and glanced at him suspiciously.

"You pain me, my dear," France decided to inform him, hands comfortably by his sides, seeing that Poland was looking and trying to appear like he didn't. From up close the bruise looked even worse and France had to swallow really tactless remarks about Touches That Could Heal In More Ways Than One.

The things he did for people that would never be appreciated!

"Don't tell _me_ about pain" was the only reply, what was pretty unfair since Poland did punch him in the stomach, after all.

Oh well.

"What would you like me to say, then?"

And really, why couldn't people see that touch was simply the greatest complement to the conversation? The simplest brush of skin against skin would bring this question to perfection.

"Oh I don't know," said Poland in a tone that suggested that he knew everything and then some. "What about sorry for sneaking up on you, I'm a total jerk, how can you even talk to me after everything I've done to you?"

Most days France enjoyed how capable of creating drama from the simplest things Poland was, it was simply endearing. Today was not one of those days.

It took some time and he was almost surprised to find himself enjoying the battle of words, but when he finally asked "may I?" there was no hesitation in Poland's voice when he said "yes".


	8. Prussia and Fritz

Rating for this story: K

* * *

><p>Prussia was very reluctant— or maybe rather, uneasy— well, actually, he was just wondering what exactly was wanted from him. Frederick preferred to be alone when he was writing and he definitely didn't want Prussia there— he was too "obnoxious", that was how he put it.<p>

And Prussia definitely hadn't been pouting at this, thankyouverymuch. Even though he really, really wanted to be able to watch him working. There was something he loved about relaxed and yet so focused Frederick and it was wonderful watching him putting all his being into something he loved. It could be composing music or… anything, really.

But it wasn't like Frederick liked to be watched. So he was, colloquially speaking, kicking Prussia's ass out of his study all the time.

So what exactly did he want with him now?

He kept wondering about that even when Frederick smiled to him and, sitting behind his desk, showed him a chair.

Prussia sat and maybe some of his—uneasiness showed on his face because Frederick smiled wider and moved his gaze to his desk. Prussia noticed papers, many of them; but it looked like Frederick just finished getting ready to do the actual job.

What _was_ he doing here?

"I was thinking, my Preußen, about writing about you."

The sudden remark almost made Prussia jump, but then he grinned. Well, that was some good start!

"And what about me?" he asked and leaned more comfortably on his chair.

He was ready for every response, or so he thought because the one he got was enough to make him too startled to say anything.

"Everything."

This time it was Frederick who grinned at his silence.

"And it'd be nice having you here to ah, provide some feedback. And," the smirk Prussia got this time wasn't pretty at all, "that way you won't have to watch me through a window anymore, right?"

It was definitely convenient that the Awesome Nation of Prussia didn't blush because if he _did_, that would be a very good moment to do so.

* * *

><p>AN Frederick the Great was the first person that attempted to write the history of Prussia.


	9. Lithuania and Poland

Rating for this story: K

Prompt: Lithuania/Poland, seasons

* * *

><p>"I'm coming, I'm coming!"<p>

Liet quickly tried to dry his hands on his shirt when he approached the door, having just paused washing the dishes. The pounding was becoming more and more impatient. It was also in a rhythm he knew quite well and he wondered irritably why Poland couldn't just help himself inside like he usually did.

"Co_ming_!"

God but he was driving him crazy—!

The thought didn't even have the chance to leave his head when he finally slammed the door open an got a bunch of colorful autumn leaves thrown right at his face.

He stood frozen in place for a while, blinking owlishly until he realized Poland was laughing, bend in a half and holding his stomach. His coat was open and the scarf undone, hanging loosely from his neck and brushing Lithuania's doorstep.

"Oh—oh my god, Liet, your face, you should, oh my _god_!"

Lithuania indeed felt his face grow hot then and he reached for that scarf, grabbing both its ends in his grip and tugging furiously, making Poland's laugh turn into a yelp.

"Poland! What were you—what was—that wasn't funny, damn it!"

But his friend already slipped the scarf off his head and turned around on his heels—though not before kicking the leaves into Lithuania's house, _of course_.

"POLAND!"

He threw the scarf behind himself and took off after him, forgetting that he was barefoot, but it really wasn't the biggest of his problems now. The dreadful realization that Poland may kick the pile of leaves he'd gathered from all over his lawn just this morning made him speed up in panic and soon he was turning around the corner of his house to see that indeed, his friend was heading right there.

The thoughts of _no, no, no, no_ and _I'll kill him!_ and _all the freaking morning!_ run in turns through his mind and he didn't know how, but he managed to grasp Poland's flapping coat and they both stumbled to the ground unexpectedly and _ow_, even with all the cleaning it wasn't the best thing that happened to his back today, that's for sure.

But his work was safe and Poland was under him where he could _control_ him, more or less, or at least make sure he wouldn't cause any more damage.

"Can you just explain to me why are you _doing_ this?"

Poland grinned his best grin, all adorableness and boyish playfulness, but it did nothing to calm Lithuania down.

"Every single day that starts a new season! It's not _fun_, Poland—"

"Ah come on, you _are_ having fun—"

"You threw snowballs into my kitchen!"

Poland squirmed under him then, apparently at least a little embarrassed.

"It was only one snowball and I really had like, no idea it'd land in your soup—"

"Let a stork into my living room!"

And truth be told Lithuania was still pretty much amazed at how he managed to do that, but not enough to ask and have Poland repeat it just to show him.

"You like storks!" his friend protested immediately, as if that had anything to do with why Lithuania was angry at all.

"And turned on a hose in the hall and made a mess out of everything there—"

"I lost control over it! It wasn't my fault, it was totally angry and scary, you should have seen it—"

"I DID!" Lithuania yelled, furious at the mere memory of him watching helplessly as Poland soaked and ruined his furniture.

"Oh come _on_, Liet! It was only leaves. No harm done, I thought about it this time!"

Poland thinking anything over didn't really sound too legit to him and he scowled, completely not eased.

"My question still stands, you know. WHY are you even—" And oh, was it a blush? It was as interesting as it was surprising and Lithuania forgot how he wanted to finish his question.

Poland rolled his eyes as if that wasn't a big deal, even if the redness on his cheeks betrayed him quite visibly.

"I wanted to celebrate, duh. With you, you know— play, and stuff."

Lithuania mussed it over for a bit while Poland squirmed for better position under him, trying to rearrange his coat too.

"You wanted me to play by messing up my hard work?"

"What? NO! I told you already, I thought about it, I wouldn't—" Poland's voice faded off when he followed the line of Lithuania's gaze, finding him looking at the pile of leaves and he pouted.

"I didn't wanna mess it up! Just… fall on it, maybe, or like, push you!"

Lithuania actually groaned then and flopped down on Poland, really wondering why on earth did he think that it was any better and not something to be pissed about.

…and then, in a moment of unexplainable madness he rolled them over to the leaves, grabbed a handful and pushed them down his friend's shirt, his ears drinking in the sounds of Poland's startled yelling.


	10. Liet, Popo and Russia 2

Rating for this story: K

Prompt: Russia/Lithuania/Poland - both of them giving a sad Poland hugs

* * *

><p>Poland made a lot of ridiculous faces when he wanted people to pity him and Lithuania was actually fairly immune to them all; except only when Poland was truly, actually sad and miserable and when he let himself show it for some reason.<p>

Right now "some reason" was probably quite a bit of vodka he managed to drink in pretty short period of time and maybe Liet wasn't at his best too because he kept rubbing Poland's back and reaching sloppily to Russia who was sitting on Poland's other side, trying desperately to make bigger nation look at him.

Finally he gave up and just poked the massive arm, and Russia's happy, drunk face looked at him when he leaned back.

"Polan'ssad" Lithuania informed him seriously, trying to focus his gaze on… anything, really.

"I am not" Poland sniffled with dignity, tried pouring himself more drink, missed, put the bottle away and stared miserably at the wet spot on the table.

Russia blinked and was obviously thinking for a while.

"He says hisn't" he decided finally, rather happy with his conclusion. Liet shook his head so hard that he felt his _stomach_ rebel.

"No, no no no. He says hisn't— he says that only when he _is._"

They both looked at Poland in wonder for a while and then Liet suddenly found himself embracing him in a warm and only a little awkward hug. Seconds later he felt Russia's arms sneaking between his own and Poland squirmed and then they all decided it was way too confusing to try to untagle anyone from this for at least a little while.

"You both t'tlly suck," Poland only murmured hidden somewhere in the depths of their arms, but he didn't sound quite _so_ miserable anymore.


	11. Lithuania and Prussia

Rating for this story: T

Prompt: Lithuania/Prussia with the line "kissing you isn't that terrible".

Set sometime during Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth when Prussia was still a Duchy.

* * *

><p>Lithuania's head jerked up.<p>

"Excuse me?"

"I just said," Prussia repeated with a smug look on his face, like the fact that Lithuania asked— _had __to __ask_, really— for clarification was some personal victory of his, "that kissing you isn't that terrible."

Lithuania very slowly put his book down. Then he instantly regretted it because not that he needed it, but— he supposed it felt like some sort of a shield between himself and Prussia's confusing insanity.

"And how would _you_ know?"

Prussia waved his arm lazily.

"Thanks to deduction. I'm a tactician, and a damn good one, too!"

He could only stare, completely dumbfounded.

"_How __did __you __even_— wait, do I _want_ to ask this question?"

Prussia grinned and leaned to him across the table.

"It's not like I'd tell you anyway."

"Right."

They stared at each other. It was getting very uncomfortable very fast.

"I'm not saying it is," Lithuania finally forced himself to say because he didn't want to discuss it, and certainly didn't want to do it with Prussia, and it had to be one of the most insane conversations he had in a while and considering how much his time was consumed by putting up with Poland? It was saying something.

"I'm not saying it is," he tried again. "But you have to know that something like that is, er, subjective, right—"

"It damn well isn't!" Prussia suddenly snapped at him and he blinked because o…kay?

He nodded. Slowly.

"_Right_."

He stood up before the staring could stretch in time again. The table between them was definitely not wide enough.

Unfortunately he didn't have much idea of what to do _next_.

"Look. I. _Look_."

Well, Prussia _was_ looking, so maybe that wasn't a problem and he mentally slapped himself.

"For God's sake!" he snapped finally and slammed his hands on either side of his book, bringing his eyes to Prussia's level. "Just tell me what it _is_ about!"

Because try to remain calm when you have red eyes fixed on you, okay, _not __that __easy_. Especially that Prussia just kept looking so damn smug and ugh, okay, now Lithuania _knew_ he was being played, most likely because Prussia was _bored_, and he didn't like it one _bit_. He didn't want to retreat defeated now, what seemed like his only option only seconds ago.

"I'm not saying it's about anything," Prussia practically sang, irritably cheerful like a brat that just got his way. Lithuania knew, he heard that tone a lot.

"Do you think it's funny for _you_—"

And it was another wrong thing to say, he saw that in a way the red eyes before him shone with victory. Prussia was right; he was a good tactician.

But Lithuania was a damn good warrior and despite what it might seem like on the surface, he liked to act quickly.

He grabbed Prussia's robes and pulled, drinking in the sight of the cocky expression turning into one full of surprise and then panic, and just when he could feel Prussia straining his muscles to pull away, pressed his lips to his. Hard.

Now that was even a better surprise.

He was too angry to even register anything beyond the simple, usual things, but— no, there it was; Prussia's unkempt hair brushing his forehead, the ragged breath right against his mouth, lips, then teeth, then hot, trembling tongue—

He not as much pulled away as pushed _Prussia_, letting go of his clothes and opening his eyes, annoyed at himself for closing them.

Prussia's face was definitely redder than his felt, the frantic up-and-down movement of his chest perfectly visible even through the robes and he looked anything _but_ smug.

Lithuania grabbed his book and bloated in knowledge that he shocked Prussia into silence, even if by doing so he shocked himself, too.

Still, not enough to not be able to turn around just when he reached the door and say—

"Kissing you isn't _that_ terrible."


	12. Canada and Poland

Rating for this story: K+

Prompt: anyone/Poland, cuddles in public

* * *

><p>"I don't know why you act so—"<p>

Poland shot him a warning glance, but he stubbornly kept going.

"—embarrassed all the time," he finished, sitting down on a bench by Poland's side and offering him his ice-cream.

"I don't act embarrassed," said Poland definitely too defensively. "You act embarrassed!"

What was pretty lame comeback, really.

Canada was torn between feeling hopeless, amused, and frustrated what… was pretty frustrating itself, so maybe it won, after all.

And maybe he was— unsettled (not jealous; definitely not jealous) by the fact that Poland could jump all over Lithuania, and Hungary, and Italy _no __matter _where they were, and he certainly saw him doing that even with _Prussia_ once, but every time Canada so much as took his hand he stammered and blushed and ended up pulling away in one way or another.

Well, it was cute— at first. Meaning it wasn't anymore. Meaning Canada wanted to see what Poland would do if he _didn__'__t_ let go once, and pulled him close, closer than they'd ever been in public, and just kiss him.

He entertained this idea quite a lot in his head and if he wasn't afraid that Poland would freak out and end up being angry with him…

Poland's hairclips looked very shiny in the sun and he was sitting close enough to—

Maybe slow approach would be the key here.

Canada carefully sneaked his arm around Poland's shoulders and felt him tense.

"You know," he said before Poland could start babbling nervously. "I'm not really that, uhm, easily noticed…"

Poland was blushing and warm and Canada leaned in to touch his hair with his cheek.

"…and it's so rare I actually don't mind it…"

And maybe it was a little passive-aggressive, and maybe Poland couldn't really pull away while holding his ice-cream, and it's not like Canada planned it, not… consciously at least.

He smiled against Poland's hair and breathed in and felt him taking a shaky breath and hoped it was anything but nervousness.

"Gosh, you're _awful_."

And _finally_ there was a hand on his chest and he grinned and put his other arm on Poland's waist and now it was actually a _hug_.

He was certain he could get some cuddling soon enough.


	13. Estonia and Latvia

Rating for this story: K+

Prompt: Estonia/Latvia, steamed-up glasses

* * *

><p>A picture:<p>

Soft, fluffy snow, just fallen. Clear and cold blue sky. Warm mittens, scarves and hats. Ridiculously puffy winter jackets.

One pair of bare hands struggling with a thermos cap.

At least until Estonia takes it away to open it himself before Latvia manages to spill half of its contents on his pants.

"We could just get inside, you know," he says, not quite struggling himself, not _really_.

"And get undressed, and having to get off the boots, and, and then having to put it all on again?"

1:0.

1:1 when Estonia unscrews the cap.

"I wouldn't mind, you know. We could stay inside for a while longer."

Latvia looks at him in such a doubtful way that it almost makes him want to spill the cocoa on purpose.

Instead he sniffles and brings it up to take a sip.

Endures it when his glasses get foggy in an instant and hates the fact that he doesn't need to look to _know_ that Latvia's smirking.

2:1.

"I don't know what's so funny about—"

Cold hands on his cheeks and he startles because _of __course_ he didn't notice.

There's something between the "oh!" and "hey!" he says into the kiss, and Latvia's nose is even colder than his hands and he knows because his cheeks are hot— damn!

Latvia cries out and jerks back and that'd be it for the stupid cocoa and for keeping up the score.


	14. Popo, Russia and France

Rating for this story: K

I asked for Russia/Poland prompts and got "France"...

* * *

><p>"<em>THE <em>_ANSWER __IS __LOVE_!" France finished finally with big letters, italics and— Poland was _sure_ that there were sparkles somewhere in the metaphorical font of his voice.

He beamed at them proudly, gave each of them a rose that they both had no idea where he took from and, after just a while of what seemed like internal battle with himself, winked first to Poland and then to Russia.

In the next moment, just like that, he was gone.

Poland stared at the flower in his hand, not really trying to think about anything because it made life definitely easier, until he heard Russia's voice.

"That was rather interesting."

And it sounded appreciative because you couldn't help but _be_ appreciative of France's speeches. Some of them, at least. Or at least, Poland felt like that because there was something in France that Poland couldn't quite not appreciate in a way, so whatever, and it seemed that maybe Russia felt the same way.

Poland felt sudden rush of sympathy.

"Yeah," he agreed all the same because it was another one of that "easier ways to go".

"The problem is," Russia continued, and this time suddenly sounded a bit embarrassed. "The problem is I forgot… what the _question_ was."

They looked at each other slowly.

Finally Poland shrugged.

"Dunno. But thought you had some bliny left?"

Russia did. That was good enough too.

* * *

><p>Bliny - traditional Russian food en. wikipedia. org wiki/ Blintz


	15. Denmark and Ukraine

Rating for this story: K

* * *

><p>"This is AMAZING!" he <em>attempted<em> to say, but it came out more like "PHIS ISH APHASHING" and wow were those some crumbs that fell out of his mouth? That was sort of embarrassing, but he was just so excited and Ukraine's cooking deserved every sudden compliment it could get!

Especially when she blushed like that and oh, Denmark could just see how pleased she was, even if she tried not to show it. He impulsively decided to comment favorably on everything she did, to the point of being irritating, even; mostly to see _when_ Ukraine would start seeing it as irritating, anyway.

"I-it's not really a hard recipe, I bet you could make them yourself just as fine," she replied finally and she looked really, really good when the happiness and pride radiated from her like that.

"You need to show me, then!" Not "give me the recipe", not "write it down", Denmark chose his words very deliberately on occasion. She blushed again and wasn't it just great?

"Ah, you have—" she started; then, with something very much like determination in her eyes, leaned over and wiped the side of his mouth with her thumb.

He blinked, honestly surprised, but still thinking clearly enough to catch her hand before she shied away.

Well. It was unexpected, but, if he was going to be honest with himself, not something he wasn't hoping for.

His grin was answered with a nervous smile, and a firm squeeze of his hand.


	16. Prussia and Poland

This time with beta! Rating for this story: K

Prompt: Prussia (+ Poland if you want), kittens

* * *

><p>Prussia had no idea how Poland got so many kittens and, frankly, he didn't even care, so he didn't bother to listen to Poland's completely unawesome babbling. He was waiting for one question and usually he wouldn't even bother to do that, but it was Poland who had the kittens, and therefore the— power.<p>

It'd soon change, though.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Poland took one of the little furballs and got too distracted to continue his story, or whatever it was anymore.

"So, how many can you take?"

Prussia's fingers twitched and he beamed, sounding even more enthusiastic than he thought he could.

"All of them!"

Poland froze and raised his eyebrow at him.

"And what will you do with them?"

Judging by the way the question was asked it sounded like he suspected Prussia of wanting to try making a kitty-soup or something.

"Come on, Poland! You can't take care of them, I can! It's that easy!" he exclaimed, moving forward and taking the kitten out of Poland's grasp. It was so soft and warm and _tiny_ and oh Gott, he wanted all the kittens in the world for himself!

"You can't take care of them!" Poland protested immediately, catching a kitty that apparently got very curious about Prussia and was pawing at his knee. "You have your little head-bird thing! Anyway, never mind that, Germany has dogs! And they're like, monster dogs, big and… BIG and one of them could eat all of the little guys at once and wouldn't even feel it!"

Poland was such a drama-queen (and Prussia could only judge that because he himself was not).

"Come on Poland, come on, they love me!" Everything cute loved Prussia, of course, with a dedication that could match only Prussia's own love for them. "And besides the dogs are well trained—"

Poland was already opening his stupid mouth, so Prussia cried out in desperation, suddenly feeling very protective of the kittens, his kittens, that started _gathering_ around him and why couldn't Poland _see_ that?

"And besides I'll hold them in my room! My own kitty-army! It'll be AWESOME!"

There was silence.

Poland got that blank look on his face that never boded well.

"You want to keep my kittens in your basement."

Prussia started to sweat.

"Hey, what's wrong with my—"

"Don't even ask that question; it's a basement! Does Germany even know you want to have a— a kitty army or something?"

"He never asked me if he could have an army of dogs! Come on Poland!" Gott, he was repeating it a lot, but there was just no way to get awesome ideas into Poland's thick skull! "Who else could take all of them at once?"

"Well, I don't know, maybe _Greece_?"

There was nothing quite as stupid-sounding as Poland when he wanted to be sarcastic.

"He'll topple over and fall asleep on them and crush them and then the other cats will eat their remains and it'll be your fault!"

Poland made a face at him.

"First, _ew_, and second, I totally never heard of that happening before!"

"That's because you don't care about cute little animals like I do!" He almost added that Poland only cared when the animal was big enough to be able to carry his stupid butt, but then he remembered that he _wanted_ those kittens.

He tried to put as many of them on his lap as he could while Poland complained at him some more, and they didn't even squirm too much, of course they didn't, and they were all the most awesome kittens he'd ever seen and only _he_ could make them even more awesome.

"Look, look! See how much they love me already?"

And maybe he even interrupted Poland in making some sort of a point, but he was really too distracted to care.

He was also too distracted to notice the look Poland threw him, and there was only one look anyone could throw Prussia sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of their room, surrounded by kittens and with the most thrilled expression on his face.

In the end Prussia wasn't exactly sure of the reason behind Poland's sudden change of heart, but he was positive it had something to do with his general awesomeness.


	17. Latvia, Liet and Prussia

Rating for this story: K. Also beta'd!

Prompt: Latvia and mushrooms

* * *

><p>"Lithuania, you have to help me!"<p>

Maybe it wasn't the best alternative to "hello", but he was desperate!

And besides it gave a definitely more satisfying reaction.

"Latvia! Are you okay? What happened? Please, wait until someone gets there and don't try to fix whatever it is yourself…"

Latvia could fix stuff by himself, thankyouverymuch— this time, though, he really needed help.

"I don't know what to do, they're everywhere! Every s-single day when I check, and so many too and I have no more jars and Estonia said he wasn't gonna give me any—"

God, Estonia, what a jerk. At least now he'd have to explain himself to Lithuania because there was no way the oldest Baltic wasn't going to ask Estonia about it. Served him right.

The worried voice interrupted his thoughts and he gripped the phone tighter, remembering his current problem.

"Okay, just— go slowly, who's everywhere? Why do they want jars from you?"

"The mushrooms!" Latvia cried out, frustrated. Seriously, it was like nobody bothered to listen to him. "I swear there are new ones every morning, and my kitchen is full, and I have no more space to hang them to dry, o-or jars to marinate them…"

There was silence on the other end for a while and finally Lithuania let out a quiet, barely audible "Oh".

That wasn't exactly what Latvia was expecting.

"Can't you just leave them be?" he heard finally and couldn't help an indignant gasp. As if Lithuania ever "let the mushrooms be" himself!

"Okay, okay, maybe not. Ah. Why don't you— wait a moment." Everything became muffled and Latvia guessed Lithuania had to cover the receiver with his hand. He pressed the phone closer to his ear, but could only make out some shuffling and unclear voices.

"Listen, I'm really busy right now, but why don't you call Prussia?"

Latvia felt like something heavy landed on his chest.

"Y-you don't want to help me?"

Lithuania muttered something too quickly to hear.

"I am helping, okay? Just— call Prussia. Trust me."

"But—!"

"Don't worry, I'll call you later, bye!"

There was a click and Latvia looked frustratedly at the phone in his hand. Why did Estonia and Lithuania both have to be such jerks? And he was supposed to call _Prussia_? Really?

He briefly debated whether he should at all, or maybe try to call Poland instead— even if he got some crazy idea at least he'd honestly want to help!— but he was actually curious.

And besides Prussia sounded pretty happy whenever someone called him, so Latvia wouldn't feel like a bother.

Sure enough, Prussia's voice was excited when he answered (after making sure it wasn't Russia using Latvia's cellphone; that had happened once and it was one time too many) and Latvia found himself smiling before admitting he was calling about the mushrooms.

Prussia's answer went beyond any of his expectations.

"Mushrooms? Really? A lot? I'll be at your place in a moment, what do I need to bring?"

Latvia could only quickly request jars before he heard Prussia cackle and hang up.

That day he not only managed to find more mushrooms with Prussia's help, but also got some money for letting him take some home.

He didn't even mind that Lithuania didn't call him after all.

* * *

><p>AN Mushroom picking has a rich tradition in Eastern Europe and is something that people greatly enjoy to this day. Actually I have no idea if people in eastern side of Germany go for mushroom picking or not, but the general picture around here is that they have regulations in Germany about that and Germans generally prefer to buy mushrooms than to pick them themselves. I figured that even if Prussia wanted to go mushroom picking (he spent a lot of time with Poland and Liet, right? and I think it's something he'd like to do; it gives you a lot of occasion to bloat when you find a lot/beautiful mushrooms), Germany wouldn't approve. And apparently you're allowed to pick only 1kg a day? Germany, why.


	18. Lithuania and Poland 2

Rating for this story: K

Prompt: LietPol, visit to the doctor's

* * *

><p>Poland was laughing at him.<p>

Well, not actually laughing, like with making noises and all of that, but he was looking at him with the tiniest smirk, eyes shining with mirth, and letting out soft breaths through his nose, like he couldn't quite stop himself from giggling.

That was even worse, actually.

"I hab no idea why id's so funny do you," he said and immediately regretted it when he heard his voice. Cringing made the pain in his head worse and now _that_ was going too far!

Poland did make a sound then, something like a muffled squeal, and Lithuania felt pathetic and too tired to be angry.

"Your nose is red," Poland informed him happily after a while and if he was smaller, or the chair in the waiting room a little bigger, Lithuania could bet he'd be swinging his legs.

"My noze hurds. I dond care how id loogs," he managed and then swore he was not going to say another word until he saw the doctor.

The grin Poland gave him was infuriating.

"You have to be totally the only nation ever that gets sick after standing in the rain for five minutes!"

Lithuania had to bite his lip to stop himself from saying that it was half an hour and it was all Poland's fault because he was late and it was not only raining, but also cold, and with the economy as it was it shouldn't be any surprise that his body reacted as it did…!

"…it'll be so funny if you have the flu…"

He was going to kill Poland one of these days.

Something poked his cheek and he realized that he had closed his eyes— even the white light in the corridor made his head hurt, _everything_ made his head hurt and he suddenly just wanted to go to sleep.

He swatted at Poland's hand irritably, surprised at himself— and actually baffled when Poland skillfully caught his hand and hooked Lithuania's arm around his, making him lean against his side, his head resting on Poland's shoulder.

The sudden change in position did nothing to ease the pain in his head, quite the contrary, to be honest, but when Poland lightly squeezed his hand Lithuania found out that he didn't even mind the little snorts of laughter anymore.


	19. Lithuania and Poland 3

It's been a while since the last time I posted anything here, huh... (Also, in lights of recent porn-deleting activities on ff net, I deleted my last two drabbles from here.)

Well, this is a silly drabble I wrote to this fanart - i. imgur. (com) /1z9N9. jpg (delete spaces and brackets). Human names used because I sort of treated it as a high school au :)

Rating for this story: T

* * *

><p>"Can I get it now?"<p>

"What? No, Feliks, no."

"But I have to check it, Liet!"

Why Feliks even bothered to ask was a mystery, since he was already reaching towards Toris' pants.

Toris quickly put his hands between his legs.

"Haha, Po… no."

And maybe there was a little too much "haha" and a little too little sternness in the "no", but. But Toris was actually kind of interested in the idea, only—

"Sorry," Feliks murmured, pushing his hand between both of Toris.

Only Feliks was so _focused_ on it like it was some sort of serious task. He was even speaking properly and it was— dangerous, that was what it was.

Toris was afraid for his penis, frankly speaking.

And his penis didn't share his concerns, what made things very complicated for both of them.

"Um," he commented about the universe in general when Feliks' clever fingers did a quick job of his belt, and then fly.

He risked a glance to the side at his friend's face, but the stubborn — serious — pout was still firmly in place and why, oh why did it have to look so good on him?

"Liet," Feliks stopped what he was doing and his voice was actually scolding, heaven's above. "You're looking in the wrong direction."

Toris scowled, because not only was it completely embarrassing, what was Feliks thinking telling him to—

But then Feliks started working on getting rid of Toris' scowl with a focus that he usually never seemed to possess and, needless to say, he was more than very efficient.


End file.
